


Three Wishes

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Series: Dark Month Collection [15]
Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M, Multi, Wishes, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why don't you wish him to life again, if you miss him so terribly?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Dark Month 2010, Day 19, for rudy_flamthrowa -- Bartimaeus/Nathaniel(/Ptolemy) Three wishes, like a parody of the monkey's paw story. . Well, I accomplished something dark this month.

Nathaniel is often spiteful, but then, Bartimaeus knows this.  
  
"Why don't you wish him to life again, if you miss him so terribly?" he snarls, all spitting teeth and awful, teenage hurt. There is rage there, and hurt, and a desperation to be loved, completely and totally. For Bartimaeus, this task is impossible.  
  
The years stretch in his memory, onward and onward like a crinkled film reel. For Bartimaeus, there have been too many others, too many masters.  
  
In a fit of childish pique, Nathaniel scrabbles behind the bed, draws out the silly paw that had brought this argument forth. Trapped in his pentagram, Bartimaeus can only watch, Ptolemy's form shivering helplessly as Nathaniel snaps "I wish Ptolemy of Alexandria to life."  
  
Bartimaeus knows how this story unfolds. He has seen too many careless masters, childish in their power, fall this way. Pride and anger are almost always a magician's downfall, and for that he is usually glad. Glad because this means that he is free to make the journey back to the Other Place in peace, free of tyrannical overlords made too power hungry, too greedy over the years.  
  
He isn't used to caring about them. Isn't familiar with the thin tendril of almost fear that curls through his essence, hot like iron, at the thought of Nathaniel getting hurt.  
  
A knock on the door, one, two, three- and he scrabbles against the edges of the pentacle, singeing his essence on the spell work binding him in, burning Ptolemy's flesh away until he can see the illusion of muscle. "Nathaniel," he hisses, as Nathaniel shoots him a childish glare, already climbing to his feet-  
  
"Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Natty, no, no, don't let it in-"  
  
He is helpless in the pentacle, trapped. His lips form words, curses in every language he knows how to speak, murmurs "I wish him dead, I wish him dead, I wish him dead."  
  
Helpless, trapped, chained by a magician's power even like this. Downstairs, the door creaks open.  
  
Nathaniel shrieks and he tumbles forward, pentacle dissolved. The Other Place is calling to him now that Nathaniel's summon is void, yanking at his essence, _come home to us_ , it calls.  
  
Footsteps on the stairs.  
  
The bedroom door creaks open.  
  
Death does not suit Ptolemy. The wraps that bind him have come loose, revealing festering, fetid skin beneath. Bartimaeus wonders when his tomb had been breached. Who had let in the elements to pull at his master's flesh.  
  
The Other Place beckons and Nathaniel is gone.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispers, fingers- his fingers, _Ptolemy's fingers_ grasping for the paw. Ptolemy is quiet as he makes the final wish.  
  
The apartment is empty, save the coppery scent of blood rising up the stairs.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says again.  
  
The Other Place beckons.  
  
Quietly, he goes.


End file.
